Feelings: A Series of One-Shots
by TastingLatte
Summary: The Phantomhive Manor is populated with some unusual characters - with some very usual emotions. This series of one-shots explores different emotions, sometimes with one character, sometimes several. They are mini-psychological insights and headcannon pieces, mixed with twists and turns as dark - or light - as the human experience we all face.
1. Ciel: Peace

**I always love looking deeper into the characters background. Even so in the manga and anime we are given bits and pieces, I always imagine each has a rather hard time moving on - I mean, they did get picked by a demon... So the next series of one-shots explore the characters through different emotions. If you have a suggestion for an emotion and character, leave it in the comments... I'll be happy to delve into the psyche of these guys with ya!**

PEACE

There was a splash in the pool and Ciel mindlessly lobbed his head toward it. He was taking a vacation, from the city, from his country home, from just about everything a young man on the cusp of adulthood could take a vacation from. And yet there were still disturbances in his pursuit of peace.

Like Finny, now getting back out of the pool and running to the diving board and gleefully running and jumping off the end and holding his arms around his knees and laughing. The little drops of an ever bigger splash touched him and Ciel rolled his eyes and slid his sunglasses on.

"Sebastian!"

"Yes, my lord?"

"Ice."

"Of course, my lord."

And he held his hand out, fully expecting that in a second, or as he waited and glanced at his still empty hand, a few seconds later, it would be holding a glass of ice water.

It took a bit longer than he wished. Sebastian was not as yielding to his sigh of annoyance and Finny was once more running off the board, and now diving, albeit not well, into the water again. Ciel sat up and placed the glass on the small square of a side table. He swung his legs off the settee and slipped his bare feet into the sandals. Standing he looked at his butler and frowned.

"A straw hat? You look like you have gone mental," he said as he passed him. "Take it off. You like heat, remember?"

The smooth voice of the butler was a bit grainy as he swiftly doffed his hat and muttered, "Yes, my lord."

Oh yes, Ciel was taking a vacation, and he hated it with every ounce of his small body. He wanted peace, but did not really want it so badly that he abandoned his status and vacationed among the commoners. He wanted peace, but did not really want it so badly that he left his staff behind. He wanted peace, but did not really want it so badly that he actively tried to enjoy it. In fact, he took himself to the small cottage's library, fully stocked with books and his paperwork. He had merely glared at Sebastian when the butler had asked if he was sure he wanted the stacks to be brought on his vacation.

"I'll probably have no time, but the Queen, well, she waits for no one," he had said. And added cheekily, "but me."

And he sat down now, and looked at the stacks. He took his pen, uncapped it, and recapped it. He studied the walls. He studied the books. He leaned back and let the chair spin slightly.

"Damn it." Ciel threw himself out of the chair and tossed the pen somewhere in the direction of his desk and marched down the short hall and down the steps.

His maid, Mey-Rin was on her knees picking up the soil of a over turned plant. He rolled his eyes and eased slowly past her; he did not have the patience to hear her voice as she pleaded mercy for something she had no control over. Even if the plant had spontaneously tipped over, spilling itself, she would cry and carry on about how sorry she was. He was on vacation and he was trying his best to find peace, damn it!

"Young master," a voice called as he stomped down to the front room.

Ciel whirled around and glared. "Oh dear lords above, what?"

Bard paused in mid-step and seemed to gather that he was not in a mood to be approached. "I'll just baste the chicken," he said and bolted for the kitchen door.

"Honestly, my lord, if you were not keen to the idea of coming to the summer cottage, you should have said so," Sebastian's smooth voice said from the corner of the room. "I could have arranged for all your meetings to continue as normal, and leave you very little time to be on your own."

"I need to get away, and I need to do it now," the young man said. "The Queen wants this, the manufacturing companies, want that… all the time something!" He sighed and looked back at Sebastian. "And Lizzie. Oh dear, she has been on me for the past month about our wedding. I should be able to just show up and be married, right?"

"I have seen it done," Sebastian said. "However, I do believe Lady Elizabeth is wishing to involve you because this is also something important to you as well."

"I don't see how," Ciel muttered gloomily.

"She loves you, my lord. She wishes to have this," he waved his gloved hand, "with you. Not have them separate."

Ciel eyed the man and sighed again, finding the nearest chair and flopping into it. "And I should be the same and include my staff?"

"You are old enough and wise enough to know when you pick your battles, my lord," the butler said smoothly. "Accepting that this vacation is needed, and your staff wished to come, when they could have easily left for their own lives, is a good battle to loose."

The sound of Finny once more splashing into the pool, Mey-Rin sniffling, and Bard whistling, all came to fill the silence. Ciel looked up at the ceiling and sighed. "I hate you," he muttered.

"Yes, I know, my lord. Would you like your tea hot or cold?"

Ciel glanced over at the man and gave a small smile. "Neither. I'm going to nap and enjoy doing nothing on my vacation. The Queen can wait."

"Yes, my lord," Sebastian said, and Ciel heard the man close the doors, before he indeed closed his eyes and drifted into a dreamless sleep, for the first time in a long time.


	2. Finnain: Love

Finnian - LOVE

There was a bit of a flurry before the storm moved in. Finny stood staring at the snow as it gathered and sighed as it continued and Mister Sebastian had told him not to go out. Not yet. Finny clung to that last part - not yet.

The boy moved through the house, curiously just walking around and not aiming for anything to fix. He loved the house. The Manor. The grounds. The beauty of being able to go out and enjoy the fresh air - no one stopping him, locking him up, making him sleep. He shook his head as he paused and looked at the blanketed front entry. He hated thinking of the past. He hated to think of being alone. Of not being able to do anything on his own. Always being told that he was doing his job. The world was not ready for him. Not yet.

And he waited. Until Mister Sebastian found him among the rubble. In the fire. In the mess he had made when the doctor wasn't careful, and he got out. He got out and wanted to run and play - his muscles ached to be used in some way. And Mister Sebastian ran with him. He let him run fast and slow, and look at the trees, at the sky. Stars. Moon. Little pricks in the fabric of the sky.

"Finnian," Mister Sebastian now called. Finny turned and smiled at the tall dark haired man who smiled back. "I have been looking for you. The young master wants to go sledding in the back hills. The staff is coming, so we are waiting on you."

"Oh I am so sorry, Mister Sebastian! I know I am not normally here in the main house, always downstairs in the kitchen with Bard or upstairs and I didn't mean to make you worried!"

He took a deep breath and casted his eyes downwards. He felt horrible. But the steady hand of Mister Sebastian laid on his shoulder and he ventured a glance back at the man.

"Slow down Finnian, you are not needing to rush. We are only now gathering so you are not holding us up. I wanted to find you sooner, but the young master was rather demanding in his clothes." He smiled and Finny found himself sharing the same knowing smile; the young master asked him to change things sometimes too.

"I'll grab my coat!"

And he sprinted up the back stairs, to his room. A room he didn't have to share. A room of his own. He grabbed the winter coat that the young master had given him that Christmas, a few weeks ago, and pulled it on slowly, making sure not to rip it as he smoothed it over his normal clothes. The lining was soft and he liked to run his hands over it. The pockets were also lined in the same soft fabric and he stuck his hands in the deep pockets and ran down the stairs to the great hall. There stood the young master and Mister Sebastian, talking, and soon Bard came from the kitchen, his own winter coat on. Mey-Rin came from the opposite stairs and Finny smiled; she was graceful even if she did fall all the time. She snuck him sweets at night when they played cards. And her eyes were really kind.

Soon the Phantomhive staff was gathered and Mister Sebastian lead them outside, and Tanaka was pulling up the large carriage. Finny helped load the sleds and boxes of food that Bard had carted up from the kitchen. Finny sat beside Bard, his best friend, and breathed in and out, making little smoke rings as best as he could. He laughed as Bard joined and the older man lit his cigarette and made perfect smoke Os. Finny poked them out of the sky and laughed. Everyone was talking and laughing. Finny felt at home in the carriage, surrounded by his family.

"Mister Sebastian?" he asked as he finished unloading the carriage and Bard grabbed the sleds.

"Yes, Finnian?"

"Can we run?"

He watched as the man turned and once more smiled down at him. "Let me tell the young master and we can. I do love a good foot race."

"And we can make angels in the snow?"

Mister Sebastian laughed and pulled him into a small embrace. "Yes, we can do that as well. I do love a good snow angel."

Finny was laughing as he raced around the trees, the dead branches and fallen logs making him duck and leap, or simply bluster through. He saw Mister Sebastian running a few yards away from him and yelled at him as he darted around a boulder. Finally, they stopped, Finny gasping for air and his cheeks hurt from laughing so much.

"Why do I always like this so much, Mister Sebastian?" he asked as they sat on a rock and looked over the river at the bottom of the sledding hill.

"I believe, Finnian, it is because you have found things you love doing and a family who loves you. You are very important to everyone of us." He smiled and handed him a food box. "And I too have found my family as well. So we are both very loved."

"Love."

"Love," Mister Sebastian echoed.

Finny went to bed that night, his arms around the coat the young master gave him and the smile that his loving family always shared.


	3. Ciel: Fear

Ciel - FEAR

There weren't many times when Ciel thought about his mortality. He was, in some ways, a typical teenager, typical almost a few oddities thrown in to make sure to remind him he was very far from typical.

First, he was rich. Like really, really, rich. He owned twelve manufacturing companies, each with its own product line, some for his food business, some for his toy company, and the latest was for woman's fashions. Each of his ventures were successful, and were expanding. He had just opened trade agreements to America, and Australia. The Phantom Company was growing in England. The best seller, the Phantom Bunny, was the accessory of choice for new mothers all over, and he had a few investors wishing to introduce other animals. He thought the Phantom Cat was the oddest proposal; his cat-crazed butler thought it was as smashing idea.

Second, he was engaged to a wonderful woman. Not really high on the oddity list, but he had been engaged to her since they were 8. For the past 11 years they had grown up together and had found a balance between being friends, family, and lovers. He still thought it was the hight of scandal when Lizzie slept over in the house, without her parents, and in a bedroom a few rooms from his. Of course it wasn't really too bad if they met in the adjacent bedroom and kissed and made-out. He didn't see it as breaking the "no sex before marriage" rule Lizzie's parents insisted on. He would always smirk when they reminded him; they had nearly made love twice already.

Third, he employed odd servants. Each had a dark past, and each was still haunted by it, in various degrees. Ciel didn't think much of it, since he too had a dark past. He had been kidnapped on the night of his 10th birthday, the night his parents were murdered and his childhood home burned to the ground. He had been held captive, sold, gawked at, and lusted after for three long months, his demeanor changing as he became more and more forlonged, and finally, in a cry of utter pain and desperation, had found the one thing that answered the most desperate plea for saving and destruction.

The last odd thing that made him very far from typical tycoon who was used to being served: his butler was a demon. A real demon. Sebastian was the only thing that came from the darkest part of his past, and was the only light in his future most days. Ciel had exchanged his very soul for the pure delight that the demon executed with precision and perfection: the revenge of his utter loss of his childhood. Sebastian had stamped his soul for taking, sealed their contract by defacing his right eye, and had sworn allegiance to him as he assisted in finding the men who had changed his life on the night of his birthday.

Ciel sighed and paced his office. It wasn't many times he thought about his mortality, until it was almost taken from him. A carriage accident, a misplaced gunshot, a deranged aunt. The normal things like choking on Bard's overly cooked chicken or runny sauce making his bathroom trips too frequent didn't bother him. It was the blackness and darkness of the corners, of the spaces between, that made him hesitate. Made him look back to make sure a hand was not reaching out to take him. Not yet. Not so soon. Not really wanting to go at all.

But he had slipped and had said he wanted to find someone who knew about his kidnapping, and he had seen the sudden delight flash in Sebastian's eyes. So dangerous. So needy. So fear had dug deeper and Ciel had dismissed him, had fled, had walked the small blooming garden. He had walked the three greenhouses, wishing for a way to not enter the house, not be around his demon. Not be around his master and slave.  
Ciel placed a hand on the glass and peered into the darkness. He swore it looked back into him. And he backed away. He wanted to live and see his marriage. He wanted to live and give Lizzie children. He wanted… so many things.

And the thought of mortality - loosing it so soon to a hungry, stalking, shadow - made Earl Ciel Phantomhive pause in his thoughts so many times during the day. In some ways he was the typical teenager, almost adult - but he had a demon, a contract, and a visible blemish that made him the oddest oddity in his household. And the very depths of the dark moments, when even the brightest light was shining on his staff, he would still cry out in fear as they looked at him, waiting, watching. How would it consume him?

How would he end?

How would the feared blackness that he so effortlessly peered into everyday, finally snatch what was theirs?


	4. Baldroy: Pain

Baldroy - PAIN

The day he buried his parents, there was the stab of hollowness in his heart, and he wanted to keep it hidden. He did not want to show that a boy of 8 would grieve his parents and be strong to his twin sisters. Be the brave man. Be the big brother. Protect. Protect. Protect…

His sister Lilly died that winter, leaving him and Violet. He did the best he could, made arrangements with the local church, brought a small wooden box. The priest smiled sadly and took it. He stood and stared at the too small box, holding his sister. His other one weeping as she had done for their parents, and he stood, still. Protecting her. Protecting her from whatever would came next.

And then he got into a fight. And another. His anger, boiling too close to the surface. He would walk the streets, his sister close, clinging to his coat, trailing. He would look and see the mix of pride and fear in her eyes. He would hold her when he came home, bloody and his eyes swelling. She would clean his wounds. And he would pretend it was the pain of the fresh wounds that made him cry. Not that she was 12 and he was 15 and he was tough. So tough that a man from the military finally caught him and held him against the brick wall, breathing stale cigarettes and smoke into his face. Growling. Join and fight. Be brave. Protect his little sister.

He joined and he watched Violet cry as he rode the back of the wagon, off to camp, off to war, off to be brave and protect and inflict pain. He wanted to cry and hold her. He wanted to tell her it was worth it. It would be over soon. It would be… something other than painful.

He saw her once more as a nurse, moving as an angel, looking over the charges. And their eyes met, hers wide in shock, his almost shut because of the painful bullet wound in his side. Once more Violet took care of him. Took him to the outside, sat with him. Sang to him. Read to him. Laughed with him. The other boys found it hard to believe such a pretty woman could be related to him, and he threatened anyone who would look at her. But then she gently told him she was engaged, a Captain. A nice man. A man who loved her. A man of kindness and wealth. And she sent him a letter, inviting him to the wedding.

Violet was beautiful and he cried, openly, and without fear. Finally, someone had found peace, happiness, freedom from the pain. Because one of them was happy. Finally.

And then he saw his new brother-in-law's sister. She was a vision. So beautiful. And he wasted no time to ask if he could court her, no matter she was a widow, and had been one for only a few months. He wanted to make her happy. He wanted to be happy with her. And the next spring, his sister expecting her first child, he married. And the pain washed away as he stood in front of his bride, so happy. So happy… and ready to face the storm when he was called back to the field.

Except the field was in his backyard. And the only one left standing was him.

The light faded as he dropped to his knees, his beloved wife and sister, his new family… gone. All gone. Taken by a force too powerful, to big, to much. And he slaughtered each of the monsters who slaughtered his happiness. Pain was too much, too deep, too raw, too much for him to contain. So he hunted. Shot lesser men in the head. Put them down like dogs. Accepted money from bloody hands to make his hands even bloodier. He was ruthless. Fueled by the rage, the pain, the agony of the cries. Of his sisters standing beside their parents grave. Of his sister as she was held and he watched from afar as her body became limp. Of his wife, grasping and gasping as she was shot in the back. Of his world becoming nothing but pain and numb.

And he stood in the middle of the bodies, blinking and realizing he had made a mistake. His pain had caused him to go to far. Set his gun on a man who wasn't guilty. Set his gun on a woman who was weeping for her child. Set his gun on his on head and was ready to face the beyond. To stop the pain.

But a figure came. A figure begged him to come. And he bought a ticket, set across the sea, ready for the figure to collect him on the docks. And he stood, in a world that seemed to be going on around him, without him, not sure what his pain was. Not sure he even knew what it was anymore.

"Bardroy."

"Yes sir!"

"I will be collecting you, now. You have a new place to call home - a new family to defend."

"I… I didn't do a good job before, sir."

"The past is that - past. You have done some bad things, and I can't condemn you. Only your ghostly memories can. But I have a young master who needs you. And I think you need him."

And he looked down at the boy as he got off the carriage. So young. So hard. So much pain in his eyes.

And Bard saw himself - his life - in that one glance from Earl Ciel Phantomhive, a boy of 11, already so much in his past, so much in his future. Bard knew he indeed had a second chance. And he didn't want to let the boy down - he did not want to let the little boy he was down. He would make the child grow into a man, a man who didn't have to dwell on the pain. A man who could find happiness, despite the pain.

Bard climbed the hill, a bouquet of flowers, blue, pink, and yellow, and he looked down at the bundle and sighed.

"Hello my sweet ladies. Hell got a few more bad guys. I know it doesn't bring you all back, but it evens the scales a bit more."

And he watched as the flowers danced on the wind, spreading over the waters and he imagined the petals were floating back home, back to America. Back to where his beloved family laid. Back to where his pain had started.


	5. Ciel and Elizabeth: Lust

Ciel and Elizabeth - LUST

She pulled back from wanting to kiss her husband; she was mad at him, se scolded herself. He had said no to the new suggestions of redecorating their bedroom. He had been a bit curt in his delivery, swift in his dismissal, and now, in the carriage, he sat stiffly beside her. Lizzie turned her head and looked out the other window.

The air was thick and she heard him sigh, shift a bit, and as she glanced over, she saw her handsome husband propping up his head, his chin resting in his curled, gloved, hand, his signature Phantomhive ring on his thumb. He was fiddling with it as his other fingers were twitching. She gave a small smile; he was lost in deep thought. She glanced down and shyly saw his other hand was resting on his leg, close to her skirts. She shifted.

They had been married for four months and the bedroom decor was their first real disagreement. She wanted something lighter than dark brown and blues and deep greens. Although beautiful, she wanted to sleep in a room that wasn't about him and his days before they were married. She wanted to bring in some lighter colors, some yellows, and lighter greens. Of course she did want to get rid of the heavy colors for much more feminine ones, but Lizzie was smart enough to know how to gradually take over Ciel's mind. She had, after all, redecorated the front parlor in ivy greens and pastel pinks. It was her favorite room.

She looked back at the man she wanted to protect as much as he wanted to protect her. Her left hand slide a bit closer to his right, still absently stretching out, as if it was silently searching for something. Ciel huffed and shook his head. He leaned back and scowled. He took the walking stick and struck the roof three times and Lizzie felt the carriage pick up speed. Her husbands' mind was full of secrets and she didn't dare to ask. She slid her hand an inch closer and could feel the small electric heat that was coming off his hand.

Ciel sighed and closed his eyes, a calmness coming over him as she watched him open his eyes and once more look out the window. He had come home from a trip to northern England, seeking out new ideas to expand their companies donations to the poor. She had been delighted at the news, and a bit disappointed when he told her she would have to remain at the Manor. So many times it had become a standard answer and she had accepted it, filling her time with decorating, or practicing her fencing skills against one of the tutors she had found.

Her fingers glided over his now, and she was watching his face, still calm, still passive, but he turned his hand around, palm up, and laced his fingers with hers. She smiled and leaned into his right shoulder.

"I love you," she whispered.

He turned and a smile tugged at his lips as their eyes met. He took his left hand and caressed her cheek a bit. "Sebastian! When you can, please pull over. Lady Elizabeth and I would like to stretch our legs," he yelled in the direction of the open window.

A faint, "Yes, my lord," came floating back and the carriage soon was slowing down and stopped. Sebastian was opening the door and Ciel helped Lizzie stand in the carriage, their hands still entwined. Ciel stepped out first and helped Lizzie, his hands on her waist as he picked her up and set her down beside him, Lizzie giggling and blushing. She ducked her head and looked away as she noticed Sebastian was gazing at them. No matter that Sebastian was part of the marriage, she still wasn't brave enough to even kiss Ciel in front of the butler. But she felt Ciel's hand curl tighter around her hand and she met the bright gaze of her husband.

"We will just walk a bit," he said, looking at her, but talking to Sebastian.

Ciel tugged her into a small path and the two slowly let smiles twitch and land on their lips. Ciel smirked a bit as they went around a curve, the carriage out of sight, and Lizzie looked back worried they would loose their way.

"Sebastian could find us if needed," he said, now pulling her to himself. "I am so sorry my love," he breathed as he kissed her. Even so Lizzie was a bit taller than Ciel when they were growing up, he had gained on her, and was just a touch taller than her now. She leaned into her husband, letting their hands now grasp the other and pull their bodies closer. "I have missed you terribly."

"I wish I could have come with you," she sighed, the kiss leaving her breathless. "Two weeks is unbearable." Ciel seemed to think the same thing. Any thought of him making her mad, vanished as she kissed his lips, sending a small surge of desire into her. "I am the one who should apologize - I act to quickly and am hurt too easily."

Ciel gave a small laugh and she wanted to capture the look on his face, the moment of a rare truth being told and realized. "Yes, you do, but I act quickly and don't feel anything afterwards, so I get angry when there is tears - I don't understand sometimes your emotions. But I am trying, Lizzie. I am."

Lizzie turned her head and nodded into his shoulder. "I know, and I am tying to be more patient with your lifestyle. You treat me like I am the precious part of a collection, but I want to be by your side, not admired. Not anymore." She frowned and looked into his eyes. "I am your wife, Lady Phantomhive."

"Lady Phantomhive," Ciel mused, as if it was the first time he really thought about the words. "You are my precious wife - a precious thing to protect. I forget you are as strong as I am."

She kissed him and let her body melt into his, her desire and love pouring into the kiss.

His hands rested on her waist.

She pulled back and saw him take off his hat.

He placed it on the low branch near them and looked back at her. There was a sudden heat in them.

"I do love you Lady Elizabeth Midford Phantomhive. I'm just not used to having to show affection for others to understand I do love them."

Lizzie slide her hands up into his jacket and pulled him closer. "Earl Ciel Phantomhive, stop thinking you need to be afraid to love me. Or anyone."

Ciel surprised her by backing her up into the solid tree trunk and kissing her roughly. She sighed; she felt like a low girl who was creeping around with a high class man. It made her body feel so delicious, and as his hands drifted from her waist to cup her breasts, held in place by the bodice and corset, she sighed even more into his lips. If there was heat before, there was now an animalistic need to claim her body as the one he wanted.

Lust, she realized as her husband pulled down one of her sleeves, her milky white neck being exposed and attacked by his kissed. She bit her lip, and his hand dipped between her legs. She ventured and cupped his sex as well, a fiery heat exploding in her mind. She lusted after him as well. A mutual need took over and she undid his pants, as he lifted her skirt front, and soon as they found their naked rewards, they locked eyes and Ciel picked her up slightly and impaled her on him. There was nothing lewd in the act, it was her husband, giving his wife loving, and burning the lustfulness in each others eyes away.

Their hands and fingers sought one another and Ceil held her to the tree, loving her body for the first time since he had returned home in three days. Satisfying the burning passion that had risen over those weeks and days alone. Lizzie sighed into his mouth again as he finished quenching her need, and bit her lip as a common woman as he finished his.

"My dear wife," Ciel muttered into her ear as he wrapped his arms around her. "Please accept my humble apology for being a horrid husband to you."

"My dear husband, no need. I have pushed you away in my eagerness to please and make your home mine."

"And it is your home. Just perhaps," he sighed and pulled her back into him as he took his hat off the branch, "not so much pink?"

She blushed and leaned into him, their fingers dancing around one another and clasping them once more. "But what if we have a baby girl?"

Ciel stilled and Lizzie found herself two steps ahead. "Oh, I'm not with child. Not yet," she added as she stepped back and gave him a small kiss on the cheek. "Although mother does ask every time I call on her."

They resumed their walk back to the carriage and she blushed a bit as she saw Sebastian, still standing by the door, waiting for them. "My dear?"

"Mm?"

"Do you think we could maybe have the staff in less dark clothes?"

"Lizzie," Ciel said in a low warning voice.

She turned, her curls bouncing and quickly smiled. "Ok, just the inside of the house."

"Yes, only inside the house."

"And bright colors are all out, or only some?"

He closed his eyes and helped Lizzie into the carriage once more.

"I hear red is a lovely color," Sebastian said as Ciel was stepping int. "It's a color full of lust. Lust for life, lust for love, lust for power."

"Oh, I so love red," Lizzie said. "It's a darker shade of pink!"

Ciel glowered at his butler who simply smiled and once more they were on the road. Instead of replying, he turned and held his wife, sighing as he watched the land once more go by. Red, he decided was a brilliant color. It was raw and full of passion. It was powerful, like his own favorite dark, royal blue. It was a fine color for him to let his zealous wife decorate with. He hoped that she would change their room to red, and that they would find a passion he wished to leave behind, when he reached his own end.

Lizzie did not pull back now, as he ventured to kiss her. She had won, a small amount. She was already decorating their babies' room in her mind.


	6. Snake: Suspicious

**Inspired by a convo had on AO3. :)**

Snake - SUSPICION

He narrowed his eyes as he climbed into the greenhouse. A few more steps and he and his companions would be able to hide. Hide and watch. Hide and wait. Hide and hunt.

"I am not sure what I want more, the flesh of Smile, or of Black, says Wilde."

"Let's not be hasty, says Emily. They may not be the ones who made our friends leave us."

"Suspicious, though, says Victor."

Snake bit his lips as he looked through the darkness and slowly blinked; he didn't really want to listen to the comments of his friends. But he did feel they were right - something had happened to the first-string. And he could taste the tears on his tongue. He had tried to keep his friends from noticing as he worried how long they were gone.

"What says you? Says Emily."

Snake sighed and turned and eyed the bright and curious eyes of his friends. He had to think long and hard, what did he say? "Well," he began at long last. "I think we need to find out what happened. And if this is the home of Smile and Black…" he paused and looked back at the large home. "Maybe they can help us look for our other friends."

"Posh! Says Oliver."

"Nothing good comes from trusting outsiders, says Victor."

Snake hung his head and felt Emily slither up his arm and stick her tongue out, almost as if she was kissing his cheek. "I understand your worry, says Emily. But if Oliver smelled them in London, and that kind man gave us directions to here, perhaps they are not just innocent freaks like us."

"We are not freaks! Says Victor. We are loyal and kind."

"You want to strike them too, says Wilde."

The two slithered closer and closer before Snake plucked Victor up and looked him in the eyes. "Calm. We need to sneak in and find if Smile and Black are really here - or just their scents."

"Don't be daft, says Victor. They are here. Oliver isn't wrong."

"Thank you, says Oliver."

Snake shook his head slowly and moved out of the shadows, out of the greenhouse, feeling his friends moving with him, curling themselves up his body. They would all find out what was inside the big house before them, together. As they had always done - they would find out what laid before them, suspicions or answers. Snake's hand gripped the back door and Oliver gave a soft hiss, giving him the courage to twist the knob and open the door.

"I hope they are not going to harm us, says Emily."

"If they are, we will strike first, says Victor."

Snake pulled back and shook his head. His friends quieted and looked concerned. "Please, I… I am not sure I can think so lowly of them."

"However that may be, you still can't deny that having our other friends leave after Smile and Black show up and sneak around is, at the very least, suspicious, says Wilde."

Snake nodded and stepped across the barrier. Ready for the truth. His friends curled around him, both comforting him and protecting him. He was ready to find the others who accepted him as he was - his true, human friends.


	7. Phantomhive Staff: Laughter

Phantomhive Staff - LAUGHTER

It started out slow, and built, and rumbled in the chest, and spilled past perfectly trained lips, and then, then it split the air in two, loud and sure, unafraid.

Finny did a cart-wheel again and grinned.

Mey-Rin swatted in the air as she tried to capture the butterfly.

Bard was balancing trays on his head.

Sebastian sat on a chair and watched the small cat in the bushes batting at a fly.

Ciel was being fed by Lizzie, cherries, but she kept throwing them and they landed on his chest, or beside them as they lay on the lawn.

Tanaka sipped tea, his eyes dancing.

The sun was high, the day was warm, but not uncomfortably, and a small breeze had started to push fluffy, puffy white clouds into the sky. The day, if asked by anyone, was perfect. It was perfect.

Ciel smiled as Lizzie finally got a cherry in his mouth and he say up to not chock, sure that either Tanaka or Sebastian would run over in a moments notice if he was. But he laughed as Lizzie threw another cherry, and he caught it in his hand, and he tossed it back, and she tried to catch it in her mouth.

Bard tipped his head and had to catch the empty tray before it crashed to the grass, and he quickly ducked out of the way as Mey-Rin was running at him, fixated on a bright blue butterfly and not paying attention. He caught her around the waist as she almost fell into the little pond in the middle of the vast lawn. Mey-Rin's surprised gasp and squeak made Finny pause and point at them, laughing.

It boiled up and spilled over. It was organic and beautiful.

And as the day came to an end, the staff and the Earl and Lady went into the Manor, to eat a perfectly prepared meal, they all wondered why their days had to be so dark and so cautions when the sun was shinning, the breeze was perfect, and they were enjoying life.

At the end of the day, after everyone went to bed, Sebastian sat in the chair, petting the cat in extreme happiness and as it jumped lightly from his grasp and flicked its tail at him and wondered back to his bush, he too let a laugh out; the days of carefree and laughter were too few and it did make him wish the family he called his, could have more. But even as he watched the cat disappear, he knew the laughter would as well.


	8. Ciel and Sebastian: Desire

Ciel and Sebastian - DESIRE

"Dreams, my lord, are powerful." Sebastian took the teapot from the platter and poured in a perfect arch the aromatic smell of Black Orange tea. A new product that the Phantom Company was trying to introduce.

It had become one of Ciel's favorite over the past few weeks, and so Sebastian had taken to wake up his master with this pleasant odor.

"I can not say much more on the subject of actually dreaming, because actual sleep is a rare thing for me," he continued as Ciel sat up and dragged a hand over his face and eyes. He took the tea cup and blinked the weariness out of his eyes. "But I have observed my fair share of sleepers and dreamers. I know the implications of dreams on a human's psyche and how even subtle dreams can manipulate the haunted in the daytime."

"For the love of holy things, please do shut up," Ciel muttered as he set the teacup back down on the saucer. "I don't even want to know how you knew I had a nightmare."

The smallest of smiles tugged at Sebastian's lips as he turned and bowed, a non-verbal half apology. He swiftly went to the young master's wardrobe and took out a few selections, looking them over and bringing them back to the young man who was now stretching, but still in bed.

"My lord, you have several meetings early, including one with the Midfords. They are coming in at 9:30, which overlaps your 8 o'clock appointment, which, if I am correct - and I am - is coming up the long drive now."

Ciel groaned and threw off the covers, his legs swinging out from the blankets and hunched over, rubbing his face once more.

"8 o'clock - whose blasted thought was it to do that?"

"Yours, my lord," Sebastian said swiftly. Another tug of the lips earned the dead stare of his master and a groan.

The few times when Sebastian was able to bask in the glow of his selfishness and contract with the young man, was when Ciel woke or was alone or going to bed. The bright blue eyes had pulled many women in, and once discovered he wore a patch over the right one, they usually felt sorry and wished to lavish him with gifts or platitudes. Ciel didn't mind much; he enjoyed that they desired him for something he had no control over. And Sebastian desired the selfishness of the humans as well.

The desire of the power, of the soul, of the control, of the meal - it all mixed between the two. Human and Demon. One craved revenge and love, the other craved a pure soul and perfection. Both were pure desires that they ached to achieve, and strove hard to accomplish. A tug of war. A battle. Sometimes a bit lost on either side, but both knowing the final desired end would be so sweet, so worth the present struggle, so worth the desire that they now transmitted to one another.

"Leave me, I can dress myself," Ciel grumbled finally. He poured another cup of tea and narrowed his eyes a bit. "Do I need to repeat myself?"

"Of course not, my lord. I heard you perfectly. Like I heard you laughing in your sleep. I must say," Sebastian said, striding over to pick up the tray, "I was a bit shocked. And when I found you asleep and laughing, well, I assumed the worst."

"That I have finally tipped into insanity?" he asked, getting up and walking to the selected clothes. He glanced at them and frowned. "That I had remembered something both funny and terrible?"

"Well, to put it mildly, yes."

Ciel finished pulling on the pants and half turned towards his demon. "The top of a throne is a dangerous place."

"Of course, my lord."

"And I am climbing it even so I wish to stop climbing sometimes," he said, sighing. "My desires are getting me killed, Sebastian."

Sebastian cocked an eyebrow up and regarded the human for a moment. "Dreams are powerful things."

"Yes, they are," Ciel conceded and took his night top off. He pulled the dress top on and turned to the mirror, his back to the butler, and shook his head. "My desire to become great and overcome the tragedy of my childhood has made me falter more times then I have climbed. I dreamt I had finally made it to the top. I was ready, I was going to give you everything you desire," he met the hungry eyes of his demon and a small smile slid on the otherwise cold lips of Ciel. "And then… I fell. I was laughing in your face, falling into anothers' arms, into another eternity of servitude. Of endlessly unsatisfied desires."

He gave a hollow laugh and turned, buttoning the last button, and smoothing his top as he reached for his jacket.

"A rather perfect way to die, isn't it?" he asked as he passed his butler.

Sebastian felt his desire for the soul in front of him intensify. "And this dream, does it change how you approach your waking life?"

Ciel's hand stilled over the door knob and turned and looked at the man who had walked beside him, served him, and was also his end. "It makes playing my life an easy task. I know one day you will snatch me from my dream world and make me wake, your teeth sinking into me, sucking me dry, and I will tumble off the throne I am so eagerly climbing. And that day, my dear Sebastian, that day will be the most beautiful day I have ever seen. And the darkest, for yes, that dream has haunted me since I called out and you answered. Yet, I have climbed, striven, desired, for it to come true."

Sebastian smiled and licked his lips. "I desire the day we fall together as well, my lord."


	9. Undertaker: Silence

Undertaker - SILENCE

It fell like the heavy rain on the backs of those who slowly and sadly followed the heavy coffin. Silence. The breaths of the grieving were curling into the air, divine prayers and sobs to be silently captured, bottled, noted and discarded, as one does with such things, day after day. He moved out of the shadows, standing next to the priest and sighed himself; he too sighed empty things.

"How many more will fall?"

"Many, many more," he replied. He looked into the sky and gave a small chuckle. "There are greedy members of both the heavens and depths."

"Thank you for that reminder," the priest said, once more watching the slow black clad cloud descend into the lower parts of the grounds that surrounded his stone structure. "But are humans not as greedy?"  
The other turned and raised an eyebrow.

"They want to fill so much - the dark with the light, the silence with words, hate with love, loneliness with laughter." He paused and closed the door, cutting the sound of the rain, of the small sobs, of the cracks of lightening and rumble of the thunder, off as surely as it had arisen. "We are greedy to have our fill of things. Our fill of the good and the bad. So wanting it all. But not quiet getting it. It all dies."

"It's all silence in the end, isn't it?"

The men looked at one another and the silence descended into the very room as well. A knock came and the priest turned. He opened the door and a woman stood, her hands over her face, her hat low and her dress black. He smiled a bit; a newly mourner.

"Are you here for the Ivis party? They are down the path."

She looked up sharply and he saw the pain etched into the eyes. And her mouth moved, forming and reforming words. "Was there a woman in the party? Leading on about the place as if she knew Mr. Ivis?"

"Of course, his wife."

She spat and laughed. " _His wife,_ you say. Well that's a fine thing to assume when a woman is weeping! I suppose I would not be considered for that role because I am silent and still?" She turned and placed her back to the priest and stared into the darkened sky. "Oh yes, a nice and silent woman who let her husband's eye wonder and his body… well it obviously went with _her_ didn't it?"

"I am so sorry, Mrs. Ivis, I am new to the area."

"Yes, perhaps you are, but one thing is true, she will be taking another soon enough."

He stood and watched as the rain swallowed the figure back into itself. And a hand once more was on the priest's shoulder and he looked at the longer nails, the paler skin, and up to the drab grey coat. The silence of the very grave itself seemed to always yawn and echo in the man when he came. The silence was lengthening and soon the other man slipped past him and there was nothing.

Nothing but the small stone-heads who stood like silent fingers out of the ground, reaching, reaching into the sky, demanding to be seen, demanding to be answered. A last moment of humanities cry for the silence to not take them fully. Silence them forever. The rain pelted the ground, and the ground silently drank it in like it was thirsty for the water, thirsty for the sound, thirsty for one more body.


	10. Snake: Guilty

Snake - GUILTY

"Don't feel bad, says Oliver."

"I… don't feel bad," he mused to himself, even as he glanced over at his friends. They curled around and some looked over at him, silently echoing Oliver's feelings. Emily came over, nudging her head under his hand, and slithered into his lap.

"This is a good home, says Emily. We are not having to perform and be made fun off. Our other friends may have been nice to us most of the time, but they didn't think we fit in."

"Sometimes I am happy they are gone, says Victor."

Even Emily turned and hissed at the older friend. Victor barred his fangs and moved under the bed.

Snake fell to a deep silence, his usual state, and thought. He didn't really feel badly that he and his friends were safe, same as he didn't really feel bad that his circus friends had seemed to move on, without him. He felt something deeper.

Guilt. He felt guilty he ran. He felt guilty that his friends had pushed him to the place Black and Smile lived and worked, but he couldn't, didn't, wasn't even now, able to strike on them. He looked at Emily and stroked her beautiful skin. She was the passive one of the bunch, the level headed one, the one who sometimes would come with him on his walks, and she seemed to understand.

"I'm going outside - I need… air."

Victor hissed from under the bed and Oliver curled up deeper into himself, closing his eyes. He looked down at Emily and she smiled. He placed her around his neck and got up.

He walked down the hall and smelled Black in the next hallway. He paused and eased to the corner, looking around it, and saw Black and Mey-Rin, the maid, standing in the hallway. They were talking in low voices and he simply watched. They seemed to be deep in discussion and he finally heard a bit of the conversation as the maid took her glasses off and her bright eyes flashed dangerously.

"He was not here when they came, Mister Sebastian. I don't believe for one moment he could be here for any other reason but to heal. You should know this better than anyone." She sighed and looked up at him. Snake blinked and wondered why he wished to be looked at by anyone in the way the maid now looked at Black. "He is a sweet man. I don't care for the snakes, but I understand - we all want to belong."

Black nodded and took her glasses from her and studied them for a moment. "Yes, and we all do things we wish we didn't have to do just that." Snake heard a smile in that sentence, and Snake saw the maid also smile, in a rather intimate way that made Snake duck back around the corner.

"She loves him, says Emily, with a sigh."

Snake looked at his friend and blushed. "They are so different. And I don't think we should have seen that."

He felt guilt surge once more. He was living in a mansion and had so many places he could be, and he always seemed to be bumping in to the others. Snake looked at Emily and she seemed to still be happy about what they saw and heard. The other night he had heard the other two servants - Bard and Finny - run down the hall, chasing a ball and skidding to a stop when they saw him standing, the ball at his feet. He had looked at it and wondered why anyone would be throwing balls down the hallways. He had picked it up and Finny had smiled, asked if he wanted to join, even as Snake wanted to answer, he saw Bard cringe a bit. He had slipped back into the shadows, feeling ashamed and guilty he was in their way.

Snake sighed and walked down the back stairway, on his way out to the garden. He didn't mind that it was rather cold, and Emily curled up his neck and settled on his head, as if she was a hat. The crisp air swirled around and he breathed in deeply, clearing his head of all the questions that he was sure would never be answered. He was in a good home, as Emily had said before, and he never had to worry about anything beyond an odd stare or a small shiver running down the visitors' backs. Snake was fed, housed, and treated with kindness. He was able to travel with the others, and his friends were able to come most of the time as well. Victor said he hated being out, and had reported seeing all kinds of places when he was left alone. Oliver liked being out, and had always a story or two about the things they saw in the city. Emily usually went with him and her quiet observations and comments made Snake feel as if he was really adjusting to the life outside Noah's Ark Circus, where he had first found his family.

He sat on the hard ground, letting the cold seep into him and Emily and he talked about the past, the present, and the future. As he continued to talk, he was unaware of another set of eyes that had rested on his form. Ciel Phantomhive watched as the man who talked to snakes was in his garden, carrying on with one of them. He sighed, the guilt that weighted on his shoulders was something he had long agreed to never burden the man with. He had deceived him and had asked him to stay, promising he would look for his circus family, knowing that they were dead. Most from his own staff that Snake sat beside and daily interacted with. Ciel let the curtain fall and his thoughts. He was no saint, and neither was the snake talker. They just felt guilty for different things, and for different parts of the same situation.


	11. Mey-Rin and Sebastian: Lost

Sebastian and Mey-Rin - LOST

There were moments when Mey-Rin saw with clarity, even with her glasses, the path she was on. And other times, like now, when she bumped into something and just plumb couldn't handle being so lost in thought or in her own life.

She yanked her glasses off and glared - at Sebastian's leg. She blushed and looked about, and finally took a breath and looked up. She mostly expected the exasperated line on his lips, but not the kind, almost laughing, glint in his eye as he slowly sank down, squatting in front of her.

Mey-Rin found herself lost in a completely other way. In his red eyes, in the way they lit up a bit when she met them, in the way his lips seemed to betray his attitude of indifference and slowly lift.

"Are you quiet alright? I didn't mean to come around the corner so quietly."

She blinked and nodded. "I am at fault, Mister Sebastian. I was… was…"

"Lost?"

She began to nod and then shook her head, her hair whipping into her face a bit. "No, I know the Manor like the back of my hand, I was merely lost in my own mind. I often am these days. Too quiet and too loud at all the same time," she finished looking away, muttering. Getting lost in the silence that stretched between them, even in the close distance.

He sat down, beside her, and she gulped as he seemed to relax. Her own legs were still tucked beneath her, where she had fallen and bumped down to the ground. Mey-Rin slid her eyes back along his torso, down to his legs, and his well polished shoes, he crossed in front of him, sitting like a little child. He was anything but a little child, Mey-Rin thought as she looked away and blushed. She moved to stand, but his gloved hand stilled her, on her shoulder and she looked at him sharply, noticing for the first time, as if she could have forgotten, that she did not see him in a mass of black, like normally when she wore her glasses, but rather with an eagle sharpness. She moved to replace her glasses and he stilled her there too, his right hand delicately laid over hers.

"I too hear the quiet and the loudness."

She looked away again and slowly back. "Do you get lost in them?"

"Quiet often."

"Sometimes it's nice…"

"Yes, but mostly it's not," he finished. She met his gaze and she blushed slightly.

She nodded. "I'm used to the loud and the rushing, well, at one time," she added as she smiled a bit. Her former life was not quiet. She never had time to be lost in her mind, her thoughts, her private… well she never had a private moment before Sebastian and the young master had found her.

She had not registered his hand was no longer on her shoulder until it touched her cheek. "Me too."

They sat in the hallway, his hand on her cheek, warm and slightly possessive, and Mey-Rin held his gaze, getting lost in the red eyes that looked back into her brown ones. Finally he broke contact, closing his eyes as if he heard something far away and was trying not to.

"The young master awaits for his tea."

He stood, smoothly and effortlessly, like he was liquid reforming. He held a hand out to her; the other still held her glasses, not fully in his grasp. Mey-Rin struggled to get her leg back under her and stand before the Head Butler, the man whom she found herself being lost in much more than she would ever dare entertain incase he would see. His hands came around her, picking her up. She gasped in surprise and he smiled a bit, his hard lip line coming back just as quickly.

"May I ask you to help me with the afternoon tea?" he asked, quietly. "I have found that the loud noises are rather softer in your presence."

She blushed and nodded. He replaced her glasses slowly disappearing behind them once more. He bend and swept a piece of hair back behind her shoulder and she could see him glance at her as he smiled and added, "In fact it's perfectly quiet in my mind for the first time in a very long time."

His breath glided over her ear and she glanced up at him as he straightened. She swallowed, nerves, and her mind, kicking her emotions. His hand came around her and rested on the small of her back, guiding her around the corner, down the stairs, and into the kitchen. The route was not unfamiliar, was not foreign, but in that moment, she felt as if she was utterly lost.

Lost in his tender touch.

Lost in the silence he had knitted in her mind.

Lost in the very moment she had dreamed of.

And for once she didn't mind being utterly lost in her thoughts, and in her mind as she glided behind him, her hands perfectly still, her head held high, and the quiet and loud of her mind - her memories, her private thoughts, the things she had done - were in perfect harmony.

In this small moment, Mey-Rin saw with perfect clarity, even with her glasses, the path she was on.


	12. Ciel and Sebastian: Confusion

Sebastian and Ciel - CONFUSION

Perhaps it was the zombie humans who were wondering the ship, Campania, but Sebastian was really rather perplexed. In fact, he was so perplexed, he was perplexed he was perplexed. An odd feeling for the demon who had existed far longer than humans had made boats strong enough to cross the ocean they were now in the middle of.

Sebastian looked at his young master. He was sitting in the middle of the floor, his luggage strewed about him, as if he was robbed. He had asked, and Earl Ciel Phantomhive had huffed 'of course not' as if that was a reasonable answer to the unreasonable question. So Sebastian tried to focus on what was around him, and the zombie humans seemed to be the only thing on his mind.

To reanimate the body, yet lose a mind. To have the outside, but have the inside, quite gone. He watched as his young master huffed and stomped about, nothing unusual, so he quietly retreated into his own mind, his own peace and his own musings. It was a place of darkness and color all at once. Rather overwhelming if a human could share his mind.

Could one share a mind? Would one want to, he considered, and came up with one answer: not with a demon. He glanced at the boy and sighed. Nor with a human. Dull and lacking depth. Oh wicked for sure, but limited. And the soul was really the best part of the fleshy package. Sebastian licked his lips and stared a bit too much. Like a odd man who was looking at small children. He glanced away, and tasted rotting flesh - zombies.

"Young master, I must ask you to hurry and find what it is you seek - the … zombies are coming."

"You need to sound more convincing, like the American when they screamed, 'the British are coming.' Now that is always a crowd pleaser. Zombies… they are on the lower deck, and can't travel-"

A thud and the putrid smell of flesh seemed to sting even the young master's nose.

"Right, this is hopeless. Sebastian?"

"Yes, my lord," he said as he scooped up the young boy and fled the room, zipping down corridors at a rate only a demon could. And yet there seemed to be zombie bodies and smells everywhere. Could the Aurora Society be able to replicate the zombies? He had to halt quickly before he ran out of ship to run. Placing the young master back on his feet, Sebastian sighed. So many questions and so little room to ask them in. They were supposed to be supporters of this insane quest to reanimate the once lifeless.

A thought came into his mind and the curious question lingered even as he glided after the young master as he continued his bizarre quest to find answers to the zombie issue: Would he - Sebastian Michaelis, demon and soul taker - be able to rip out a soul and still keep the body intact?

A curious question indeed and it rattled in his mind even as the rattling of the ship started once more.

A zombie young master?

He shuttered lightly.

No, a life without a soul, without a spark of remotely interesting intelligence, was not really a life at all. And to that end, Sebastian dismissed the whole matter quiet entirely.


	13. Elizabeth and Mey-Rin: Nostalgia

Elizabeth and Mey-Rin - NOSTALGIA

Her fingers twirled around her hair as she gazed out the windows, streaked with snow, and the crackling ice that clung to the glass. She smiled absentmindedly. It clung like the ice and the glass were lovers, knowing, even as the day went on, and they tried to cling to each other, they would both loose. Someone would change, someone would remain. And as all love stories - true ones - they would try to summon the other back.

There was a sigh and a slow blink, head in the hands that had held his for as long as she was able, and then she slowly slipped down the hallway. She passed their portrait, painted two years ago, so beautifully done, so lovingly hung. But he had gone a few weeks ago, and she wasn't sure where, why, when, or even if her deepest fears were true. But her heart beat for him, as it always had. Her protector, and the one she protected.

A small patter of feet and a small giggle made her turn again down the hall and watch as her own boy teetered in a run. His legs were strong and his eyes bright blue, so much like his father, so much like the boy she knew when they grew up.

"Ma… ma…!"

"George, you are supposed to be in bed, taking a nap. Auntie Mey can't be running around after you like this."

Mey-Rin had come around the corner, carrying Grace in her arms and smiled softly at Lady Phantomhive. "I'm sorry, I was so tried, and he now can climb out of his bed. A right rascal that one!" She pinched the chubby cheeks lightly and elicited another giggle from George Phantomhive. "Going to run around the Manor at all hours I suspect," she added, stiffling a yawn.

"Mey-Rin," Elizabeth said, turning her green eyes, slightly watering now, to her friend and maid. "I… I miss him," she finished in a whisper and clutched George to her chest, making him hug her neck so he was not crushed. "So much."

And Mey-Rin shifted her own toddler on her hip and put an arm around her mistress and nodded. "As do I. Both of them gone make the place too quiet."

Elizabeth's curly hair bounced again as she nodded, trying to keep the tears at bay. But she found herself guided by the steady hand of a woman whose own love story was like the ice and glass. The maid and the butler, a scandal at the heart of a proud Noble Family. But even as Mey-Rin and the Head Butler fell in love, so did she and the master of the house. Again. Finally, fully, and securely.

She sat George down in his bed, and he smiled, so bright, so innocently, her heart broke for her own bright eyed blue man. She blinked the tears quickly away and tucked him in. She watched, carefully drinking in each movement, filing away for the day she didn't have these moments anymore, as George fought for a few more precious awaking moments, and finally succumbed to the sleep he needed.

Elizabeth turned and saw Mey-Rin had placed her own child down and was doing the same. The two woman, after their respective husbands and lovers had vanished after a rather short job on the English Channel coast, had bonded deeper and had decided to support each other with their children. Elizabeth's hand settled unconsciously over her stomach as they closed the door.

"Are you alright? Tea?"

Elizabeth had completely forgotten to tell her confidant her and her husbands news - "We are expecting again!" - and watched as Mey-Rin's face lit up and she pulled her mistress down the hall, away from the children and flung her arms around the woman.

"I'm so excited for you both!"

"He needs to come home - they both do."

Mey-Rin pulled away and glanced at the portiat of the Lord and Lady Phantomhive. "Yes, yes they do."

They walked down to the sitting room, Elizabeth once more settling in front of a frosted window. She placed a hand on the window and relished how it demanded to take her warmth away and replace it with the cold. She shook her head and pulled her fingers back. No, she would not have any coldness in her heart over the man she loved with all of it. She would not raise her children alone. She would not let the memories of two children playing and laughing all over the Manor not be mirrored in her own children. They would have happy memories of their parents. Both of them. She stood and walked with a fire that would have melted both ice and glass, making them united at last.

Opening the sword case, which was for both practical use and show, she selected one of the finest long, thin, blades she had. And as she set it cutting, whizzing in the air, she closed her eyes at the sound. It was a memory of a time she had set the blade to her betrothed, it was a memory of when she was controlled by fear and doubt, by longing and mindless stupidity.

"I shall crush your enemies, as they are mine," she whispered as she looked up the stairs and saw the proud portrait of the Phantomhive family, the former Earl and Lady Phantomhive, hanging next to the one they would soon update when their next child arrived. "I don't want to dwell in the past with you, my love - but in the future."


	14. Ciel: Destruction

**And now something different... SONG FIC! I am in love (like for reals...) with Florence + The Machine. So when I was listening and this came on, I had to use it. Lyrics are in italics... the story more or less is the arc of the whole series (with my own hopeful ending).**

DESTRUCTION  
(A SongFic - Various Storms and Saints, by Florence + The Machine)

 _And the air was full_  
 _Of various storms and saints_  
 _Praying in the street_  
 _As the banks began to break_

Ciel glanced around him and shuttered. If this was what the underside of London was, he wondered how he had the stomach to do his duty, as charged by the Queen herself. The Watchdog, she had gleefully called him, and ruffled his head, as if he was a dog. He grimaced and stepped back, off the curb, into a puddle. It soaked his pant legs and it suddenly clung to him, even as he clung to Sebastian, his tall and demonic butler. The clutching hands reached further and he shrunk back.

The rain poured over him, soaking his hair, his face, his coat. Everything was wet, Everything was dirty. And the smell. It was sickening. It brought back memories he didn't wish to revisit. Ever. And even as he trudged on, they seemed to splash back into his mind.

 _And I'm in the throes of it_  
 _Somewhere in the belly of the beast_  
 _But you took your toll on me_  
 _So I gave myself over willingly_

To dismiss the memories was easy somedays, some nights. Some moments. But this one, with the demon right there, with the underbelly trying to grip his coat and pull him into the shadows, this one moment was not a moment he could rip his memories away from traveling to the terrifying parts of his mind.

He was caged. Beaten. Used. Sold. Branded. Scared - body, mind, spirit, and what part of his soul he managed to keep. He held his hand over the open flame, screaming and crying, the hooded figures laughed and carried on. Carried on. Carried on… and he collapsed. His legs were useless. His body was not his. His mind… he screamed in terror at the others who would be shoved into his cage, his hair grabbed, his every waking moment and sleeping moment terror. And then…

He shuttered.

A knife, a lamb, a sacrifice. He had nothing to loose. He was dying, after all. He was left to die even as he breathed his bastardized prayer.

"Please… anyone… save me. Please… anything… let me live."

Tears mixed with the rain as they trudged on. Ciel glad that there was the pour that let the tears melt into the nothingness he longed to really feel deep in his body. He shuttered as the rain got under his collar and he turned it up more. He grunted at the lack of an umbrella and threw a glance over his shoulder. His demon ever so close.

 _Oh, you got a hold on me_  
 _I didn't know how I don't just stand outside and scream_  
 _I am teaching myself how to be free_

His carriage was warm, he didn't ask questions as Sebastian patiently shut the door and climbed up into the carriage box. He felt the jerking of the horses move, glad for the ordeal of policing the underbelly, dealing with those whose ethics were less than questionable, was done. For now.

He closed his eyes, the warmth a welcome relief. Ciel slipped the eye patch off. He wore it for show, for a bit of sympathy, out of pure shame.

Shame. He had given himself to a demon.

Shame. He had boldly embraced the deal.

Shame. His soul was not his to do with.

Shame. The seal burned many times, not because he was commanding Sebastian, but because he wished sometimes it wasn't so noticeable.

"The more visible, the stronger the bond."

And the greedy pair had sealed it in blood and pain. Blood and pain that Ciel had to deal with when he looked at his reflection. Trying to be free. Trying to right the destruction of his childhood.

 _The monument of a memory_  
 _You tear it down in you head_  
 _Don't make the mountain your enemy_  
 _Get out, get up there instead_

Memories flooded his mind as he walked the long halls, the same ones he had done the night of the ordeal - the ordeal. He shook his head. His eyes settled on the portrait of his parents. Painful memories flooded and he held them in his hands, studying them, urging himself to watch his own memories slide and form. Death.

Life.

Destruction.

He wished to run.

Run from what he demanded to be rebuilt.

Run from what he demanded to be done.

Run to his grave.

Run to his parents.

Run to a sure death.

He fell asleep under the portrait. His demon gliding up and looking at the small child, so small. So delicate.

So beautiful. So prideful. So delicious.

 _You saw the stars out in front of you_  
 _Too tempting not to touch_  
 _But even so it shocked you_  
 _Something's electric in your blood_

Ciel left the door to the outside open, wanting to keep the light of the kitchen glow around him. He wasn't up for watching the stars, the falling ones or the still ones, but he wished to be in the open sky. The house had become crowded with servants - only four, but still it felt crowded.

"My lord," Sebastian's smooth voice said, beside him.

"No."

"I haven't requested anything."

"I know, I was just testing out how denying you sounded."

"And?"

Ciel sighed and turned. "I shan't do it again. It doesn't sound right. You… took me when I was too weak to say no. And I will not have it any other way."

Sebastian bowed swiftly, a small smile on his lips. "A wise choice to bind yourself with me."

"Don't get too cocky," the human spat and turned back to the open garden. "Merely a tool in my destruction and to be used in the destruction of others."

"Of course, my lord."

 _And people just untie themselves_  
 _Uncurling lifelines_  
 _If you could just forgive yourself_

Ciel's hand stilled as he contemplated grabbing another stack of business papers or leaving them for another time. He heard laughter and turned in his chair, sliding effortlessly out of it and took a few steps closer to the wide window in his study. Down below was his staff, minus Sebastian, spreading a blanket on the lawn, laughing and running as Bard and Finny went in circles, holding the basket he was sure had food in it, up and away from Mey-Rin. Tanaka was patiently undoing the blanket once more.

"They have no care in the world," he muttered to himself. "If only they knew the demons."

"They do, my lord," Sebastian's low voice said. It no longer startled him and Ciel merely glanced over his shoulder, demanding a further answer.

"They each have their own demons. Yours has a body and a face, and a constant reminder."

"We are always connected to our demons," Ciel said, leaning into the glass and watching them once more. "As we are connected to each other."

"Sometimes we can move on and forget how deep our demons have wounded us. How deep our former life has scarred us."

"And some of us can't ever shake the demon off." Ciel brushed past Sebastian and paused, opening the door. "But give me a few hours to try."

 _But still you stubble, feet give way_  
 _Outside the world seems a violent place_  
 _But you had to have him, and so you did_  
 _Some things you let go in order to live_  
 _While all around you the buildings sway_

The fingers once more were out, grabbing at him. Making him shrink back into the tall and demonic butler. Now they moved as one. Moved and breathed. Breathed and moved. When Ciel stumbled down the stairs, the strong hands, the greedy hands, the demanding hands, curled around him, catching, keeping him. Safe. Or in sight?

The swords crossed once more and the moaning of the dead echoed into the belly of the swaying ship. A dying sound. A dark and hollow sound. A sound he wasn't going to forget. A sound he didn't want to forget. Because he had made it once as well. When he grasped out for anything, like the blind corpses. He had grabbed the only thing that reached back.

Death. Destruction.

Life. Salvation.

And a soul. A simple request. A simple command. A simple gift. Security would be his. Safety would be in his grasp. And death would follow him. Till his own consumed him. An all consuming death, darkness, hollow.

A simple request.

A simple demand.

A simple command that flew now into the emptiness as his fingers now grasped at nothing but air.

"Sebastian…. Save me!"

 _You sing it out loud, who made us this way_  
 _I know you're bleeding, but you'll be okay_  
 _Hold on to your heart, you'll keep it safe_  
 _Hold on to your heart, don't give it away_

The darkness was a normal place for Ciel. It was comforting and scary. All and nothing. All and nothing… like his love for his life. Like his love for his family. Like his love for his demon. All same. All different. All that made him scream and cry, cherish and dismiss.

And now he looked at the boy - almost too grown for such a marked title below him - in the mirror. It reflected so many things. So many horrible and joyous things. So many things he wished to be and not be. He touched his eye once more and the flash of the night, of his deal, settled and fled. It was something done, never to be returned. It was a deal of a scared boy. It was a deal he would make once more if he had too. Or would he? Was he the same? No, he reminded himself. His heart was his. His soul was another's. But his heart could be given to whom ever he wished. And he had so many different places he wanted to keep his heart safe.

In the hands of his demon.

In the hands of his staff.

In the hands of his betrothed.

In the hands of the Queen.

In the hands of death itself.

But he clutched his hands to his chest now, as if the very thing he had as his own would leap out and make a decision without him. As if it could. As if it didn't already know.

 _You'll find a rooftop to sing from_  
 _Or find a hallway to dance_  
 _You don't need no edge to cling from_  
 _Your heart is there, in your hands_

Ciel spread the blanket on the roof and laid on it. He glanced at the roof door and hoped he had snuck away well enough for a moment or two alone. He let his eyes slide back to the sky, all around pinpricks of light, stars of soft and bright. It brought back a memory of his father doing the same as he did now, hold out a hand, fingers spread and watching as the stars seemed to dance between his fingers. So many years and things had taken that memory back to a dark, deep place. And now, Ciel, all of 15, was willingly trying to summon it closer to the surface.

He had forgotten how to smile, laugh, dance - things that made a child like him a child. He was a man. Thrust into the world on an evil whim. On something he knew nothing about. Into a world he knew nothing about. His father had not told him, the Queen had. His father had not shown him, his demon had.

Ciel curled his fingers into a fist and brought it back to his chest. His memories were far from pleasant, and he wanted to relax. Not feel as if his life was tipping into the edge of the black pit he had surrendered himself to. The sky. It was brilliant. It held so many secrets and the vast darkness was almost the reflection of his soul. Of his feelings. Of something surely inside him.

It beat inside even as his eyes drifted closed. He gripped the blanket and tried not to fall into the abyss of sleep. Ciel had so much to do, so much to see, so much to think about. But there was also time, time to do the things he wanted, time to hunt the underside of the society and slowly take the blocks away from this puzzle of his life. And he loved puzzles. His life was one, and he tried to play the king in the chess game. But he felt he was falling, falling off the throne and into the grips of the hands that clung to him, wrapped him up and wanted to suck him up and out, and hollow him out. He rolled over and looked up at the stars once more.

"Only this is mine," he whispered, his hand clenching his chest, flat, his heart beating strong. And as he listened to it thunder in his ears, he let sleep take him.

 _I know it seems like forever_  
 _I know it seams like an age_  
 _But one day it will be over_  
 _I swear it's not so far away_

Sebastian watched as the sun rose over the Manor, the Phantomhive Staff cleaning up the carnage that was the night. Bodies were thrown in the cart. Bard counted his spent rounds and stuffed them in a bag.

Mey-Rin came beside him and handed him the paper that had been left behind in the fight.

Sebastian folded it and slipped into his vest pocket. The Earl would have a few more leads for the Queen when they went into London. He surveyed the damage to the Manor itself and smiled a bit; the blood and bodies would be wiped away, and no structural damage occurred. Perfection would still be achieved. He took his pocket watch and clicked it open. He didn't need it, he knew the seconds by the way the sun was slowly peaking over the tree-line. He didn't need to look at the staff to know that Tanaka was bringing tea. He didn't have to listen hard to know that the young master was sitting in bed, looking out the window, waiting. On him. On the day to begin. On the last day. He sighed and glided into the home he had rebuilt. He walked the stairs, the hall, and into the bedroom. Ornate, grand, demanding.

Like the little soul he had bound himself to. Like the young man whose contracted eye fell upon him and took in all that went around him. But he dulled himself, as humans often did. As the staff did when they were not weapons. And Sebastian tried to turn down some of his own demonic nature, his anger, his impatience, his suffering. Because this human needed him. Now. For a long time. And if he was calculating, until the very end of eternity. Sebastian smirked as he picked out the young masters' clothes. An eternity tied to a child. No, he reminded himself, the Earl was growing - slowly in physical stature - and was stubborn enough to see himself to adulthood. Perhaps married. Children. A long life. A life of duty and honor, much like how Sebastian conducted his own.

He was old. Older than old. But young. A demon, an immortal who loved humanity in a particular way. In a way that made him shunned by the others. He liked taking his time. He liked cultivating. He took to the side streets to nip a quick soul when he was desperate, but the one that was standing beside him, talking to the Queen, it was worth the extra effort and extra time. To Sebastian it was a blink in a long existence and it would end in time. To the humans he surrounded himself with, it was long and laborious. It was wroth with sadness and fear. The delicious feelings a demon loved. But it also had the love and laughter that also came with life, filling the soul with sweet tones and making the drinking of them so much more pleasant.

He tucked in his young master and paused. No, this life and these people were something special to him. He wasn't sure why, and as he turned and passed the servant quarters, he didn't mind how long it took.

Because one day it would be over, and that day would be sooner then later, only because in his timeline, ends were never very far away for the humans.

 _And people just untie themselves_  
 _Uncurling lifelines_  
 _If you could just forgive yourself_  
 _Hold on to your heart_

The humans of the world continued to move along. Things continued to pass and the Phantomhive legacy continued as well. The Queen's Watchdog passed from hand to hand, Vincent to Ciel, to his son. And now there was a new contract, the same familiar dark shadow by its side. Sebastian held out his hand and helped his new master into the carriage, smiling as he caught the same hard line of the mouth, the same flash of pride in the eyes. He had helped the passing of his father. As he would the boy he now sat opposite from. But unlike his father, the boy - 16 when he became the Watchdog - knew. Knew what had been done. Knew who he was. Knew what power was protecting him. And Sebastian felt pride in being able to take the next generation's soul and continue the fight.

But it was tempered with a sadness that had crept in. Tanaka had passed before the Earl had married. Bard had shattered his leg in a particular gruesome fight with demons and angels, and became wheelchair bound. Finny learned how to keep the gardens green and trimmed. And Mey-Rin had also been wounded and had use of only one arm. But they soldiered on, in the Phantomhive Manor, and with the Phantomhive fight in their hearts. Sebastian had brought in new staff, and now for four years, had become as well oiled and efficient as the one he had gathered to protect the late Earl.

"Your past is long, yet you dwell on it too frequently," the current Earl said, cutting into the silence. "Care to share?"

Sebastian shifted his gaze and slowly smiled. "Only not to loose your heart to the past. Take ahold of it and let it guide you. It has a funny way of binding to the most precious of things this life has to offer."

The Earl raised an eyebrow and smiled a bit. "And the Phantomhive's are the most precious this life has offered you in a while? Yet isn't it also our destruction being led by one's heart?"

"You have no idea, young master, you have no idea."

 _Written by Florence Leontine Mary Welch, Markus Dravs • Copyright © Universal Music Publishing Group_


	15. Mey-Rin and Sebastian: Satisfaction

SATISFACTION

Mey-Rin was on her knees, rough hands forcing her down, the black hood shielding her eyes. A familiar enough position she didn't protest as the men loosely circled her and were probably glaring down at her. Police men, marks, and even the occasional payer, had shoved her into corners, had exchanged favors, had bled for a few moments with her, and she had a few more scars than she cared to admit lacing her body and soul. She was a survivor. She had to be. She closed her eyes.

Two men were on her left, another one shuffled closer to her on her right, one in back of her, and one still ten paces away in front. She smiled. An opening. And she struck; they had made the mistake of not tying her up properly. Her fists connecting to the soft parts of the men, their tender bits firmly in her grasps and she twisted and punched up as they gasped and fell to their knees, their jaws now in pain as well. And she opened her eyes slowly as she leaned back and used her head and head piece as a weapon to firmly connect to the unlucky man behind her, listening to him grunt and stumble back a few steps. One more on her left, and she swung her right hand, connecting and twisting. She pushed up and heard the high cry of pain. She smiled.

She yanked the hood off her head and shook her hair from her face and gracefully stood as the man now closed the gap and looked over her.

"You are unhurt," he said, a small frown forming.

"Oh you want some little damsel in distress?"

He cocked his head and a small smile formed instead. "A man has simple pleasures to look forward to when one is rescuing someone who was kidnapped."

"Well, sorry to disappoint."

"No disappointment. You handled it well."

Mey-Rin smiled and looked at the men, lying on the ground, in various amounts of pain. "If I had a knife, you would be bleeding from your legs." She cut a glance back at the taller man. "If I had a knife."

He smiled and pulled one out of his jacket; even in the dim light of the factory gas lamps it gleamed dangerously. "You wish to rectify the situation?"

"Wipe that smug smile off your face!" one of the men groaned. "You practically pulled me apart."

Mey-Rin once more turned and knelt down before the man and smiled. "I could still cut it off if you wish."

The man's eyes went round.

"One word and it will be done," she whispered. "Or you can give up the man who wanted me dead. It's such a long list," she added, rocking back on her heels and standing. She smoothed her skirts and glanced around. "I seemed to have broken two jaws and two seem to be able to speak. So who is giving up the name first, and who is going to be given to the angry tall man with the knives?"

"It was Sir Towes!"

"It was Sir Camptons!"

The men looked at each other as they spoke at the same time and they tried to scramble up and stand, but their lower regions were rather painfully stopping them.

Mey-Rin looked between the two and shook her head. "Pathetic. I took satisfaction form knocking you four down before he could get here." She gave a small glare at the still standing, slight smiling man. She shook her head and half turned towards him. "Or were you simply watching and taking your own satisfaction in the scene?"

"My darling mistress, I'd never do such a thing," he said, a twinkle in his eye even as his tone was submissive. She smiled a bit more; he was anything but submissive when it came to defending her and their home. "However this does present a problem," he said, now stepping closer and looking at the men. He pulled one up and smiled as he groaned and tried to shrink away. "Who is lying?"

"He is!" the said at the same time.

"Both Sir Towes and Sir Camptons are after the young master's newest markets for the portable curry buns," the man said, holding the man still. He dropped him as if he was a sack of old papers and stepped towards the other one. "A rather poor excuse to kidnap a Phantomhive servant over."

"We didn't know who he wanted… just one of them… oh please," the hurt man cried and squeezed his eyes shut.

"Sebastian," Mey-Rin said softly. "Please, stop scaring them, they obviously don't know anything." She slid her hand up to his shoulder and leaned into him a bit. "Besides, I am satisfied that whenever these men recover from their…" she looked around and blushed. "Well, tender bits being handled wrong, they will make sure never to make the same mistake twice." She looked at one of those whose jaw was bruised, if not cracked. "Right?"

He nodded and crawled away, as did the others as Sebastian placed the other one on the ground as gently as he did the previous handful of flesh. Mey-Rin sighed and leaned her head into her protectors arm as it snaked around her.

"Are you sure you are unhurt?"

She stepped away and smiled a bit. "You won't be satisfied until I show you I am unhurt, will you?"

A spark went through his eyes as he leaned down a bit and met her amused gaze. "I am never fully satisfied, my dear."

Mey-Rin slipped her hands into the insides of his tailcoat and pushed it off his shoulders. She sighed and leaned into his neck as he was unable to move his arms temporarily. "Oh, I know, my dear. I know."


	16. Sebastian and the Undertaker: Decit

DECEIT

The Undertaker turned and gazed into Sebastian's eyes, not sure he heard the Demon correctly. Surely, he wasn't…. The Undertaker shook his head again and turned away, looking at the Temple that burned. They had burned together. Because they both had lost a valuable thing: the Queen's Watchdog.

"The body…."

"Yes. A fake."

"But I…." The Undertaker looked at the man and saw the true form, lurking, under the surface, rising a little more each time they spoke. And they spoke so often now. So many words, left unspoken as well. "A sad day, nonetheless."

"I suppose. He will need to be… trained."

The Undertaker listened to the measured words and ventured a look at the Demon. "And you will do this?"

"I can not. I am no longer his servant."

"But surely, the Mark."

"Fulfilled. I am not responsible for him."

"But his ties! His earthly connections can still be used - they don't know."

Sebastian turned and looked at the ex-Reaper, his friend, if one could call another man such given their natures. "The Ciel Phantomhive we knew, is gone. His son, his only heir, must be moved in to become the next Watchdog. The Phantomhives have kept the title for generations. But his son must make his own contract, if that is what he wishes."

"And a shove? Is that too much? A shadow of doubt that dear father is dead?" He sighed and faced the flames once more. "We burn too much."

"Earl Phantomhive will be given the title in a few days. We have… time. However," Sebastian said, lowering his voice to a mere whisper, "to bring the dead back is rather exhausting."

"Do you wish for the boys soul?"

Sebastian uncurled his edges and seemed to flutter as he slowly let himself unfurl. "Yes."

"Well, it seems like it is worth the effort."

"But the process -"

"You are a Demon. I am am a former Reaper. Ethical dilemmas have no space to be debated in this. We have a few days time. You want to remain here - in the Phantomhive's family line. The late Earl's wife, Lady Elizabeth, she would delight in knowing you stayed, despite her husbands passing. His rather odd passing. And his consumption turned him darker - into something both pure and evil." The Undertaker turned and dug in his coat, looking too and fro for a seemingly lost object. "Something, as you say, needs to be trained."

He pulled out a chain, lockets and keys clattering softly against each other and flipped one, looking at the watch-face, watching the time tick backwards; a Reapers timepiece for when the next Reaping would be. Of course, for him, it was never going forward, only on a few occasions, such as the day Ciel Phantomhive was taken, consumed, his soul delicately served to the Demon, embodied in tempting flesh. He shoved it back into the pocket and shook his head.

"Deceit, you know, is our life missions. You to deceive those who sign your contracts into thinking they are getting a perfect butler, servant, conquest - anything they demand. Yet you always hold the master key to each one of those requests. Waiting, humble, and oh, so very hungry." He smiled as Sebastian glanced at him, his eyes glowing and dangerously taking him in, in the usual sweep of a gaze. "Perhaps a little less so now, but, you long for this freedom you have found in the hands and arms of the Phantomhives. A few lies, a few tricks, a few summoning, or maybe a kidnapping? What are these in the scheme of our existence?" He shrugged and placed a hand on the now human formed Demon. "I will help. I can control Ciel Phantomhive if needed. Or if that is not your intent, I can command a wayard soul to temporarily take over."

Sebastian gave a small laugh. "A soul in a Demon's body? That is what you are talking about. I took the soul - the true soul - of Ciel Phantomhive. I dined on it. I gave his flesh up to the very depths. And he survived. He came back. He tried to throw _me_ into the pit. _ME!_ " The surrounding grounds were overtaken by the black haze that the Demon had shifted into more comfortably, more easily, these days - days since the incident, since the Contract was fulfilled, the Mark lifted, setting Sebastian free. "I served his whim for 18 years. I did what had to be done for him to be prosperous. For him to grow and become the powerful man to crush his enemies. To keep all who wished to bring him and his family name, under their heel. I crushed them. In his name. In his bidding. I did it. I did it all."

"And now his son…" the Undertaker said, laughing a bit himself. "Oh, dear, Sebastian. He is the same age as our dear Ciel was when you took him, isn't Vincent?"

And again, just as suddenly, Sebastian reformed and waved his hand, snuffing out the flames that had consumed the Temple where they had burned the "body" of the now Demon Ciel Phantomhive. "I want that soul."

The green eyes danced as he looked at the blackened building now, the moonlight streaming from above the only light. "Oh of course, of course. I will hunt the Demon down myself and take him into my fold. If you refuse to train him, I will. But first, we must find a way to make the young boy cry for you."

Sebastian turned and smiled, the first in a long meetings between the pair. "I do like the cries of the innocent who are desperate. Do what you must - do what you did to Ciel Phantomhive. I will have his son's soul. I will take it any way I can. Even if I must deceive him myself in making him think I am his friend, his saviour, like I was his fathers. Like I deceived even myself for many years before remembering why I won the battle for the Phantomhive souls. Why they drip down my chin like honey and are the most ravishing souls I have found."

The Undertaker shook his head a bit and gave a shallow giggle. "You make me want to Reap sometimes. Take an innocent here and there. A few no one will miss. Perhaps…" he let the thought form as they walked back to the moon-lit path. "Perhaps I can do that. Take a few of his protections away?"

"The Phantomhive family is under my protection."

"Yet you have no bonds with them anymore - you said so."

"The Phantomhive family is under my protection."

"Fine, then no harm will come to them. But the boy - does he not have protectors that are not under your protection?"

"I don't want to hear anything but his desperate plea for me to come to him. Save him. Serve him. Be his master, and slave, all at once."

The Undertaker watched as the retreating figure of the Demon and smiled. He would leave the boy in a state, a state that would make him yell, scream, cry, and demand, the Demon who had taken his father - the Earl Ciel Phantomhive, Queen's Watchdog - the same Demon who groomed him into the perfect balance of a soul, worthy of a Demon's supper. Of course, this had also produced an equally unique reaction to the now soul-less Phantomhive, who was lurking in the depths of the underworlds, enjoying the darkness that had been festering inside, along with the pure soul.

"You will have your soul, dear Sebastian. You will have your soul."


	17. Ciel: Stillness

STILLNESS

He laid in her arms, not sure if he should move, if he should stay, if he should simply be quiet or be talking. There was nothing in his mind that told him what to do next. This was simply a new experience. A new thing. Something even he wasn't prepared for fully. He blinked hard as he felt her delicate hand move, over his chest, pulling herself closer into his back, her own flesh sending him into a whirlwind of emotions. The same he had when he had looked at her. The same he had when he had brushed her hair back. The same he had when he had undid the buttons down her back, pulling her closer, pulling her brilliantly white dress off, pulling her into him, pulling her into their bed.

He moved a bit, her grip loosening as he heard her breathing become shallow and steady; she was asleep. His body told him he should be too, his mind told him never to sleep again. He twisted around and looked at her face, so peaceful, so pure, so radiant. Surely they should have collapsed the opposite way - he holding her. But he was not sure he wanted to hold her, wanted to pull her close, wanted the face he had grown to love, be the one he looked at as he fought sleep. Because that would mean she was his. And he was hers. And there, in that moment, he was sure, he would give in and wish never to leave her. But he had to. He needed to. This… he reminded himself, sweeping a bit of her curls off her face, was what was expected of him.

 _"Do you, Earl Ciel Phantomhive…."_

 _"I do…."_

 _"I'm so happy Ciel!"_

"Don't be happy for too long," he muttered as he slipped out of her arms, her fingers trailing and grasping, curling and floating, off his skin, too hot, too cold, too… heightened. "There will be stillness in my body soon."

He shrugged his robe on, his feet clad in slippers, and he slipped out of the bedroom, his new life still asleep, sighing as she turned and the ghost of a smile on her lips. He let his gaze linger at how the sheets flowed over her body and thought back to how his fingers did the same. He shook his head and closed the door quietly. He walked down the long hall, to the top of the stairs, and stood, unafraid of the towering figure that waited on the bottom of the stairs.

"You wish to end it now?"

"No."

"So why do you seek me out on such a happy night?"

Ciel placed a foot on the top stair and watched as the figure turned his head a bit to his left, his gaze slightly over his shoulder, slightly on Ciel, wholly somewhere else. Ciel placed his other foot on the same step and stilled. Why indeed?

"The future has changed."

"Indeed it has."

"And our contract?"

"Never will change."

Ciel watched as the figure turned a bit more, his small movements and perfectly clad gloves, flowing into the perfectly acceptable suit. Ciel took the next step and once more eyed the figure, the small wisps and the small amount of heat that was in his eye. Ciel took the next step.

"My… wife."

"Yes?"

"She will be left behind."

"But you knew this."

"I never expected to be this far along and no where closer to my end."

"Neither did I."

Ciel's eyebrows shot up as he took the next three steps as he spoke. "I find that hard to believe."

"It is true, nonetheless."

"And now?"

"Now?"

"Are you sure the future is so long?"

Ciel paused as he was three steps away, the figure fully facing him now, his face flat, impassive, but his eyes open, longing, still, yet keenly watching.

"It may be some time before we both can find our next step."

Ciel's hand slapped the man before he even knew what was happening, before he could think, before he could register it was the same hand that had caressed his wife's hand and body. "You…"

"Demon?"

"Yes," the Earl responded with teeth clenched. "I did my husbandly duties, if you were not aware."

"I was."

"And now - now do yours."

"I have no husbandly duties," the man said, smiling a bit. He caught the hand before it even connected to his face a second time. "I can not do my duties. The time has not come… yet."

"Make it come!"

"I would, at times, like nothing more."

"I am tired, Sebastian. I am tired of the pain, the hurt, the senselessness of life."

"Are you also tired of the love, the laughter, the sweet caresses of tenderness?"

Ciel moved to stand on the same level of his Demon, even so he now was looking up the foot between them. He searched his Demon's curious gaze, felt the gliding fingers, gliding flesh, of his new wife, the smile and the breath on his skin. He felt the light filter on his skin as he walked the garden, the laughter of his staff, the smiles of those who felt he was loving, giving, generous. But at the same time he felt the hate and hurt of those who wanted his protection, the needy and helpless who called to him as he walked by, his heart hard, his mission clear, and unclear. He saw his Master and Slave. He saw his Queen and Watchdog. He saw the face of his bride, gasping as he cupped her chin and kissed her, sealing them, binding them, grounding him.

He stood there, before the man, even as the man moved silently away, not sure if he should call out, cry out, whisper him to come back, or stand still. Waiting for the end to come. Waiting simply for something to do next.

Ciel turned, hours later, the first light filtering in through the high windows of the entry guiding him, to climb the staircase once more. As he walked down the hall, back to his room, he glanced as the figure opened his door and bowed, ever the servant, ever the silent darkness, ever the one who also found it easy to be still and not move, yet also wanting to know where they were going.

"Master…"

Ciel turned and pulled his eyes from the form who was still and silent, standing in the doorway, his perfect hand on the doorknob, to the woman who was sitting in the middle of his bed, her creamy skin contrasting with the deep blue blankets. He moved into the room and sighed, the door closing ever so silently, letting him be alone once more to take in the way her figure was lit, how still she sat, her eyes wondering, asking, pleading. And he shrugged off his robe, left it and his slippers on the floor and pulled her into his arms, watching as she smiled wider, her flesh delighting his as he pulled her close.

"Lizzie. I'm yours for a bit longer."


	18. Baldroy and Mey-Rin: Loneliness

LONELINESS

The way her straps glided down her arms made Bard pause. He looked away and then shifted his eyes back. The sweeping motion of her arm, replacing it on her shoulder made him turn physically away. It was indecent to watch, to look, to long. He placed his hands on his hips and chewed his cigarette. He thought of other things. War. Blood. Her hands on his. He shook his head.

"No… no… no."

But something in his mind - he knew what it was - pulled him to look over his shoulder again. Her green dress and the way her red hair now lay softly around her face. She laughed again and Finny was fumbling with the basket. She reached over and opened it, pulling out the frog that had hopped in. Bard watched. He watched closely and memorized the carefree laugh. It zipped to his core and he sighed with resignation. A lovely woman would never be found with him. He would be lonely and with her, at the same time. Torture. He walked on to the woods and found a sturdy tree and slumped against it.

Bard took his cigarette out of his mouth and fiddled with it. How long had he been fascinated by the Maid? A while he was aware. Longer he was sure. They had a shared love for guns, for thinking about defense, for moving in this new world that they had settled into without question. But he was lonely next to her. And sometimes he would catch her looking at him, and wonder if she was as lonely as he. She and Finny were close - hell, he was close to Finny as well. But the two of them… Maid and Cook…. Bard sighed and threw the used and unneeded smoke away.

"Care for some company, or is this a private party?"

He stumbled up as he got up. "Mey… Mey-Rin!"

"Bard," she said, smiling. "Are you okay? You just looked a bit… upset. I just wanted to see if you were okay."

"You saw that?"

Mey-Rin laughed and pointed to her glasses in her hair. "I'm only blind when I have these on. I'm enjoying some much needed relaxation and company among friends. I don't need them right now."

He studied her and gestured to the sit next to him. "You look relaxed," he said finally. "Ah… well…"

Mey-Rin reached out and placed a hand on his arm. "It's only me."

He blinked at her and sighed, he frowned and looked away. It was only her, and he had no idea what that meant. He knew how he wanted it to go - he would ask her to a nice dinner, would walk down the street with the enchanting red-head, he would hold her as they danced, and… he blushed even in his daydreams. They would slate the other's loneliness. He looked at her and her brown eyes didn't stray from his face.

"You are thinking very hard," she said at last. "I suppose so do I."

"Habit," he chocked out. "It's a habit…" he tried again.

"Don't lock yourself away," she said, leaning into him. "Please? Come and join us. You look lonely sitting here alone."

"I'm not alone now."

"I'm not always by your side."

"Unfortunately." He blushed and blew a hot breath out, catching how her eyes widened and Mey-Rin turned away as well. "Sorry."

"For?"

He turned a little and fumbled with his shirt hem. "I should go."

Her delicate hand brushed up against his as he stood. "Please… stay. With me?"

His heart sped up. He nodded and sat back down.

She didn't move her hand and he looked at it, how it was steady and sure, and he curled his fingers around her fingers, slowly, hoping it wasn't a dream of her hand next to his, in his. He looked over at her and she was staring ahead. He studied her features and how they seemed to fit her so perfectly. The strong lips and the pert nose, the way her eyes seemed to be wide and expressive, seeing everything. Except when she had her glasses on. He reached over and plucked the things from her hair and brought it to his face, holding them up to the sky and looking through them.

"You don't need these, and you wear them."

"No I don't need them, but I will gladly wear them." She leaned over and looked at him for a moment and took them from him. "They make me remember where I was." She sighed and placed them back into her hair. "They… are both a comfort and a burden."

Bard sighed and leaned against the tree; this was not what he wanted to talk about while she was near him. "It's a very nice day…" he began and looked at her for a moment.

"Mmmm," she said, her head drifting to lean on his shoulder. He watched in amazement as her head met his shoulder and then was a gentle weight. He closed his eyes and sighed. "I like the way it's so easy to forget we are alone sometimes."

His heart once more was pounding and he opened his eyes. "We don't have to be so lonely."

Her head lifted a bit and he felt her turn her face towards him.

"We don't have to… be alone."

She moved a little and her fingers tightened around his. He looked down forgetting they had held hands.

"We don't have to be lonely apart," he said in a whisper.

"I know," she said in a breath. "But sometimes it's harder to say that one wants to move on from that and be ready to explore what that means."

He moved and looked down at her, surprised to see her looking up. He stared into her brown eyes and found it hard to catch his breath. "Ya… I guess so. But if we don't try… we will always be lonely."

"You can have anyone," she whispered.

He licked his lips and looked into her eyes for a moment longer. "I would feel really quite lonely if I was with someone else. Just here, now, with you, I don't feel lonely at all."

She nodded a little and turned her head and sighed. "Is that your way of finally asking me to dinner?"

Bard stared and found himself trying to form a word.

"Because the answer would be yes."

He turned and wound his arm around her, and pulled her to his side, chasing the loneliness away, even if for a little while.


End file.
